


FATED

by exposefeetofclay



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exposefeetofclay/pseuds/exposefeetofclay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uma is in a long term committed relationship when she meets Tom Hiddleston at an airport. Later she realizes that this meeting has been "fated" as will be their impending relationship.  How can she negotiate his life and hers together? What is she meant to learn from all this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Almost Reveal

 

 

 

 

**JUNE 2015**

It has been without a doubt one of the most exhausting days I’ve experienced. Not just physically draining but also emotionally. Working in human rights, whilst my passion can just deplete me until I feel numb at times and come home, alternating between feeling relieved and then guilty. I live in such a beautiful mews house with certainty about tomorrow, enough money to live on, and freedom in stark contrast to the people I represent.

Sifting through the cupboard looking for a cup of soup to have a late dinner and perhaps the last of yesterday’s red wine I glance at a note on the kitchen bench- written in familiar, bold black handwriting.

“ _Uma my canker blossom - I bet it’s past nine as you stumble in –hungry and before you even think of having some cup of soup cardboard crap look in the fridge where a surprise awaits. And the red wine - it was off after you left it out – what do you expect with Australian swill? But there is vodka and orange juice on the top shelf. I hope you get to see me at 9:30 T_ ”

Despite my exhaustion I’m overcome with a wave of tenderness and feel a bit teary at his consideration which is so needed. I look at my watch and see it is 9:15 and I smile inwardly realising that he’s got that part of me down pat.

Looking in the fridge is another note attached to what looks like a large takeaway container of food and could it be… some crème caramel, my besetting weakness next to it on a plate. The note on the food says “eat me first before you even think of the crème caramel….” I laugh and see that he’s chosen my favourite spaghetti bolognaise from our local Italian restaurant. Heating it in the microwave I turn on the tv and flick through the channels until I find the right one and start  to watch Graham Norton’s show live.

I’ve seen it a couple of times before and enjoy the light heartedness of it. At  times I find the formulaic approach to the interviews annoying and predictable. Each guest comes on, discusses their success and downplays it with some appropriately self effacing story. Last week it was James Blunt talking about how he was accidentally left with a marmite tube on his face at some gig, Eddie Redmayne had spoken about how he hated his lips and tonight it was my guy. I caught myself at that phrase, “my guy” and realised that it was probably the first time I ever articulated the thought even to myself.

Graham Norton is in fine form tonight- verbally jousting with some movie producer when he introduces Tom. The audience, predictably filled with young women lets out a collective scream and it takes about three minutes for the clapping to die down before Graham Norton can be heard.

The movie producer turns to the audience and asks _“Why didn’t I get a reception like that – what am I ? chopped liver…._ ” 

Graham giving his familiar chortle  turns to Tom and says … “ _So Tom Hiddleston, what a year it’s been for you!!!_ ”. Tom gives that familiar mega watt smile that never fails to move me- spontaneous and huge I tease him about how life affirming it is- what an optimist he is.

_“Well Graham_ ,” he sits down and crosses his legs remembering my instructions on the need to minimise coverage on certain parts of his anatomy so his tumblr fans can stop embarrassing him, _“It has been amazing. I’m overwhelmed….”_ No matter how many times I’ve seen Tom on screen or on tv, I’m yet to find it ordinary how someone so public can be a part of my private life. I find myself relieved that he’s wearing the suit I chose for him, the ubiquitous red poppy and the tie with dragonflies on it which was a jokey present from me one Christmas.

_“Wait,”_ says Graham… _“So let’s just focus on that tie can we…”_ The camera zooms in on the lavender tie with tiny embroidered dragonflies… _“Aha, is this the new trademark?”_ Graham asks. _“Benedict’s groupies called Cumberbitches and I hear yours are called Dragonflies…”_

Tom laughs, that incorrigible chuckle and says _“or Hiddites as my girlfriend calls them, as they are so tribal.”_

He stops, nonplussed and realises that he’s gone horribly off script.

Graham Norton looks shocked, but recovers brilliantly saying to the audience

_”Oooooooo…now you’ve done it Tom.. spill the beans… GIRRRRRLFRIEND”_ in that teasing tone he uses. My heart is in my mouth and I feel sick. I tell myself to stay calm and trust- Tom’s bright, he won’t do anything to jeopardise us and I slowly breathe….

_“umm well all I can say is that she wants to maintain her privacy. But yes…”_  Tom concedes… _”We have been together for eighteen  months now…”_

Graham opens his mouth in exaggerated shock and turns to the audience… _“Well tell, how did you keep her secret, why haven’t we seen her with you, how did you meet and what’s her name….”_

Tom laughs, uncomfortable and holds up a protesting hand.

_“She’ll kill me if I reveal her identity”_ he starts when an audience member yells out _“and then we’d kill her”_ causing the studio to reverberate with laughter and applause.

_“Ummm"_ he says, uncharacteristically lost for words and comically grimacing at the camera. Graham helps _“Well what, is she ashamed to be seen with you?”_ he asks wide eyed.

Tom finds that genuinely funny and says _“ Noooo she does come to awards nights but insists on sitting apart and slipping out. She doesn’t do the red carpet thing…and I met her at an airport in Washington three years ago….”_ It surprises me that he remembers the dates well and to see our story as an anecdote on a chat show… for public amusement. But it was amusing.

**January 2013 Washington Airport**

I’m sitting in the Business Class lounge at one of the tables reading my book. A plate  of uneaten strawberries and half melted cheese sits dejectedly next to my cappuccino, now devoid of froth and I see the cold wintry atmosphere outside Washington wondering if the flights are ever going to run on time.

The flight to Heathrow has already been delayed by four hours and I feel bored and tired, attempting to concentrate on the same paragraph I’ve been focused on for over half an hour.

I hear someone sit opposite me but take no notice wondering how I let myself get this tired for the last two nights and still not sleep.

_“Excuse me”_ I hear a deep and cultured British male voice say… _“Is someone sitting here?”_ he says pointing to the chair opposite me.  The others are occupied with  passengers quietly working on their laptops and humming Ipads. Shaking my head I look up to see a tall, slender man with a mop of unruly dirty blond curls .

_“Go ahead”_ I say  gravel voiced. Despite my state I register the curls, so similar to mine except that mine are black and I wonder, absentmindedly if they are a source of irritation to him as they are to me and how he controls the frizz. Defeated I put the novel aside, and wonder if it’s physically possible to have another cup of coffee without feeling nauseous.

_“So it’s no good”_ the voice says again.  _“Sorry ?”_ I reply. _“The book… you’ve put it aside.”_ He adds.

I smile _“oh no, it’s well written, but… I’m too tired to concentrate”_ making an apologetic smile and looking around hoping he won’t engage me in conversation as I am not in the mood.

He doesn’t oblige. _“And what’s so good about it?”_ I find myself wondering if he’s just thick or feeling a bit mischievous – he must see how tired I am and how reluctant I am to talk. Aren’t the English reticent by nature?

_“Well, it’s a clever book by a clever novelist… a morality tale about monied Sydney. Richard writes well… the characters are sympathetically drawn…”_ I trail off. I look at him and notice how strikingly symmetrical his face is and unusually has green or are they blue eyes?

When he asks _“So when you say ‘Richard’ do you know him?”_ I brace myself for entering a conversation with this stranger

_“Yes, , he was my tutor at university and is now a young barrister – very successful. This is his first novel and I’m trying to do it justice.”_ I smile tiredly.

And then something, I don’t know what – some perverse spirit of pettiness makes me want to unsettle this man and so I ask _“ I notice your curls. Do they drive you mad? I ask because I have a similar problem….”_

He looks a little taken aback as do some of the other passengers who look up from their work to observe his curls and then mine. And then he laughs- putting a large and slim hand through them – _“I’ve found hair gel or mousse works, whatever the occasion is. But yes it can be a nuisance.”_

I’m not ready to let him off the hook yet. _“So does it frizz when you’re at the beach?”_ thinking.. good, nothing like a bit of inanity….

_“Well… we don’t have as many beaches in Britain as you do in Australia”_ I nod my head as he acknowledges my accent… _“but the sea air can umm… drive it a bit… mental.”_ Out of exhaustion and a tiny bit of respect for him not being phased I laugh. It seems to break the ice and he visibly relaxes, as if he’s passed some type of test. We introduce ourselves.

 Smiling we start chatting and surprisingly I find a second wind as the other passengers resume their work.   I tell him I’ve been in Baltimore for  a while and am off to London to work. When he asks what I intend to do in London recreationally I tell him about my desire to see as much theatre as possible which inevitably leads to questions about what type of theatre I enjoy and I reveal my passion for Shakespeare. He seems well schooled in the plays and I find myself thoroughly enjoying speaking with someone about which plays are on. He recommends Coriolanus which will be on soon.

I had just seen a production in Sydney and was telling him about it when I heard the familiar and exasperated _“Oh there you are…”_ as Angus sat down next to me. _“No New Yorkers to be found for love or money Madamoiselle”_ he says kissing me on top of the head.

I introduce Angus to my new acquaintance who seems to have stiffened again, _“I’ve just been talking to Tim Middleton Angus..”_

My companion says _“umm no actually it’s Tom Hiddleston….”_

Angus rolls his eyes _“Don’t worry, she’s hopeless with names, she sat behind me in lectures for an entire semester and thought my name was Harry….”_

I’m laughing and say _“That’s enough HAZ…”_

Turning to Tom, I say “ _I was about to ask if you were related to Kate Middleton the Duchess of Cambridge… but I guess not.”_

Tom shakes his head apologetically. _“Why do you want a New Yorker?”_

Angus replies _“She enters the cartoon caption each week and   gets worked up that her entries are never used.”_

I nod philosophically adding _“I rationalise they have no sense of humour there or the Americans don’t get Australian drollness”_

 We laugh sociably and Tom asks Angus about what he was doing in Baltimore. Angus discusses his medical scholarship at Johns Hopkins. He talks about his earlier life as a lawyer and his decision to study medicine ten years later. I tell Angus about Tom’s recommendation to see Coriolanus and Angus says “Oh she hasn’t been boring you about all the Shakespeare she’s going to see?”

Tom replies _“No that topic can never be boring…”_ and giving me a conspiratorial grin resumes talking-to Angus. The conversation washes over me as I try to give Richard’s novel another go.

**January 2015**

_“oooooh “_ says Graham Norton … _“so it was like that Alannis Morrisette song… meeting the man of your dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife… except of course the wife was the good Dr Angus…or the good lawyer/doctor Angus…”_

 Tom is quick to correct him _“No they weren’t married”_ which causes Graham Norton to clutch his heart exaggeratedly saying _“Oh thank God, we wouldn’t want a film star splitting up a marriage.. that would be a first…”_ he says to the audience.

 Tom says quickly _“Well  I knew her name and even though she had a boyfriend I thought she would make a good friend. I was busy but I ran into her again… and then when I found out where she liked to have coffee…”_

_“You STALKED her… naughty Tom”_ says Graham Norton with a theatrical hand over his mouth….”

_“I made sure I spoke to her as often as I could and then she and her boyfriend split… and later we got together…She loves Latin and reading and Shakespearean insults…”_ Tom added.

_“AND YOU I hope”_ adds Graham….

_"That’s all you’re getting from me about her let’s talk about Loki…..”_ Tom replies, smiling warily.

I feel the blood return to my face and slowly climb the stairs to have a shower. We have our own places but Tom has a key to mine and I to his, which as I sink later into my bed, I realise I have never used. I am awoken later by the sound of a shower running and bewildered I look at my alarm clock which says it’s just part midnight. Tom comes out his lower body covered in a towel and smelling clean and fresh, the curls springy and wet.  

I’m barely gaining consciousness when he slides in next to me. _“Honestly you’re a sweet wag…”_ I whisper getting in my Shakespearian insult for the day in reply to his “canker blossom.” _“What WERE you thinking telling Graham Norton..”_

_“I’m sorry it just slipped out but I’m pretty sure we can hide you still….I’ll talk to Luke”_ He sounds tired and guilty and suddenly I feel such love for him that it wakes me up. I’m amazed how energised I am in his presence after all this time.

_“I had to see you… it’s been over two nights you know”_ he says after a while. I turn to him in the dark, my hand covering his cheek  and say _“Thanks so much for the food, it was perfect. And I’m not worried you know- not now. I know I haven’t said this before but I… adore you and love you”_ -the rest of my sentence is swallowed as his mouth covers mine quickly and passionately and the night works its usual magic.


	2. In which a mutual friend appears.

 

 

 

April 2013

We’ve settled into London somehow and established a routine. It’s a chaotic place with Angus loving his rotation at St Barts Hospital and my work with human rights challenging me everyday. Neither of us gets home before nine pm and we are off to work by seven the next day. The only time we speak to each other properly is on Sundays with Saturdays being established as our official shopping and socialising day.

Socialising tends to be simply with other Australians as the English don’t really invite others easily to dinner or to their houses- we’ve observed. I’m working on a high profile case of some Australians and English prisoners on death row in Indonesia, for drug smuggling. The case is contentious as they have been on death row for over eight years, seem to have rehabilitated but still face the death penalty. I speak weekly to Julian, the Australian lawyer in Indonesia representing the prisoners as I try to produce high profile advocates to raise public awareness of their plight.

I’m one of the speakers at a black tie dinner tonight hosted by Amnesty. I’ve always found charity raising dinners to be a chore and the whole palaver of finding a suitable dress and frocking up frankly a pain. The socialising and air kissing is so at odds with the type of issues we’re discussing but money and social status talks and we need all the money and publicity we can get. My best friend, Amanda rings from Australia and asks what I’m going to wear tonight. I’ve chosen a peacock blue silk dress and an Indian tribal necklace given to me by an aunt in New Delhi. _“Spunk you’ll look beautiful and send me a photo…”_

Angus has a final paediatrics exam to study for and as usual when stressed is withdrawn and terse. It upsets me but I don’t want to make a scene about it when he’s under such pressure and I can handle his wintriness for now. I know he feels slightly uncomfortable about me supporting him through med school but as I’ve pointed out before, he earned more in his legal job than I did in mine and refused to let me contribute equally to our living expenses. I wonder if that motivated him to ask me to marry him a year back, the whole supporting him part, but I refused, saying it wasn’t the right time until he graduated which is only a year away. This was partly true but I suspect that my past in family law had a lot to do with being wary of the whole marriage institution.

Helping couples divorce was no fun.

I’ve been with him for over seven years and Amanda a psychologist feels that we all have a “shadow” or a dark side which Jung identified. _“If that’s the worst his shadow is, you’ve done all right.”_ She’s right, for the most part he’s sweet and compassionate and a true friend. The lovers part has died down a bit but it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is a discussion I had with one of his previous girlfriends from years past, before I was even with Angus. She said he was lovely but would suddenly withdraw into a type of passive aggressive pattern until she felt she had no choice but to break up with him. She wasn’t sure if he did it out of cowardice or immaturity. It had always stayed with me especially when he withdrew or became moody. Despite not liking marriage myself I was always committed to the relationship I was in and Amanda told me during a previous relationship, I had an over developed sense of staying in a relationship even when it wasn’t working. I guess I’d seen my own parents’ marriage last so long that I had a type of template for endurance. I just felt it was wrong to walk out, even when in the past I should have walked out.

As I do a final spot check in the mirror and pronounce myself to look all right I hear a dry voice say _“You look beautiful now go snow them…”._ Angus looks up from his books and I give him a spontaneous kiss.

 _“You go study….and snow them tomorrow.”_ I see the dark rings under his eyes and the stress lines. It wasn’t easy taking on a med degree so much later in life and I vow that we would celebrate after this exam. _“Hey that play Coriolanus is playing tomorrow, I’ll see if I can get tickets tonight although I heard it’s sold out because the lead actor is phenomenal or so the nurses say at Barts’”_ he says. It is odd to hear him reaching out again and then I feel surprised that I find it odd as it brings home how busy we’d become. I go to him and sat on his knee which surprised him and kiss him thoroughly – we hug and then he says pushing me off, _“You’re going to be late."_ I add _“There was a time Angus where…. We would have..”_ and he smiles regretfully.

_“See you when you get home…”_

As I am leaving the phone rings and I hear Angus yell out _“Hang on Uma…”_ I run back upstairs but he’d hung up.

Angus says _“That was Russell Crowe, he’ll be at the dinner tonight and is bringing along an actor friend as his plus one… so he’ll meet you there.”_

I am happy to hear that as I like Russell and he had befriended the prisoners on death row, sending them gifts and support. Angus had represented him as a media lawyer before and I’d represented him through a pretty messy divorce just after he won his first Oscar. Quintessentially Australian, he managed to take the A list parade in his stride, giving off the right amount of authenticity and groundedness.

At least I had someone to talk to during the night as I’d found the English patronising and hard to crack on the whole. The party at the House of Commons is in full swing- a quartet and stuffy waiters carrying around champagne and snacks when Russell finds me.

Introducing everyone Russell says _“I’ll introduce you to my actor friend as he’s very active in UNICEF as well… but he’s disappeared…”_ Dinner was announced and I tell him I’d see him after the speech. Sitting on the elevated platform with the other speakers at the main table I have a birds’ eye view of the dining room.

I can see Russell facing me giving me an encouraging wink but his companion has his back to me and I can only see the back of his brown haired head. I’m fortunate that I’ve always enjoyed public speaking and working part time as a lecturer had always stood me in good stead with nerves. The more passionate I am about a subject, the easier it is to speak about it and as I’d rehearsed the speech so often that it went well.

The death penalty and denial of natural justice to prisoners on death row had always stirred up a passionate sense of injustice in me and I found I could answer all the questions asked. I show some slides showing where I visited the Indonesian prison, the conditions the prisoners were in, along with one of Russell and me along with the prisoners. I explain to the audience that night we were to hear if our prisoners had been granted a Court of Appeal hearing and it is a time of high anticipation as I wait for the call from Julian in Indonesia. If not there are a decreasing number of legal options available to us. I am surprised at the level of applause and receive a thumbs up from Russell as I resume my seat.

Relieved that dinner is over we are free to mingle finally over coffee. I walk up to Russell and he kisses me saying _“Bloody brilliant Uma… but this coffee is hopeless. Let’s get out of here and go to somewhere where it’s drinkable…”_ He turns to his companion whom I have just seen and says _“Look I can finally introduce you two, have you met Tom HIddleston?”_

Russell is surprised at how we’d already met and is amused at the airport story. _“Last time Tom had blond curly hair and we exchanged beauty tips, Are you one of those creatures from Harry Potter? You know, one of the characters whose hair is always changing colour?”_ I ask pointing to the dark brown hair. _“No, it’s for work…_ “ Tom says laughing.

 _“Ok, so you’re a fellow actor? I never found out what you were did…”_ I say.

 _“I told Angus while we were chatting at the airport. Glad I made such an impression on you. But you were absorbed in your tutor’s novel. By the way I have a copy and I agree – it’s a good read.”_ Tom replies. Russell is heralding us out of the dining room, stopping to sign autographs and chat politely to a few people.

Tom is walking besides me when Russell says to Tom _“you probably won’t want to join us for coffee because I know you want an early night when you’re working…”_ Tom replies _“No actually, I could do with staying up a bit as I’ve been working so hard.”_ Russell does a double take and says _“Well I’d never thought you’d take a night off…. Good to see mate.”_

We catch a black cab to a 24 hour coffee shop in the city, discreet and we know there will be no paparazzi allowed at the place.  Too buzzed to drink coffee I order a hot chocolate and as I hadn’t had dessert a crème caramel. _“Sorry guys but it’s the one thing I can never resist.”_ I say. Russell smiles indulgently and says _“you’ve earned it….”_

Taking out his reading glasses I see him peruse the menu and I can’t help teasing him, _“Hasn’t time flown! You were young when I knew you years back… no reading glasses then old man.”_ Tom looks wary as he waited for Russell’s reaction, obviously not knowing the extent of our friendship.

 _“Uma represented me years ago in my divorce and Boy Wonder has negotiated a couple of contracts for me over the years before he left the dark side for medicine…”_ Russel explains.

 _“Boy Wonder?”_ asks Tom.

 _“Angus”_ said Russell by way of explanation _“He’s like you Tom, gifted at everything. Was Dux of his private school, played Rugby and Cricket for the state and wrote poetry in his spare time…plus he was the best looking guy in Sydney…”_

I add wryly _“Things come very easily to him….it’s annoying.”_

Russell adds _“They come easy to Tom as well, Double starred first in classics from Cambridge, Rugby, gifted actor…”_

Tom looks embarrassed but also pleased at Russell’s appraisal. I realise that praise from an older actor must be very gratifying. _“Although not everything has come to Angus has it Uma?”_ Russell asks mischievously. _“Are you ever going to make an honest man of him?”_

I give him a complicated look and turn to Tom who is watching intently. I ask _“So I did Latin at school and university… who’s your favourite Latin author?”_ Russell laughs and takes an appreciative sip of his coffee. I look at him as he slurps even louder to annoy me and then he says _“I know I know, it’s not as good as Quixote down the road where Uma lives during the week … which Uma swears has the BEST coffee in the world… but it’s not bad…”_ Tom and I chat easily about Virgil when I ask Tom what he is currently acting in. He answers _“Coriolanus.”_

I laugh and point accusingly _“So you were spruiking your own play when you told us to see it back in the airport… and now we probably can’t get tickets it’s so popular. What role do you play?”_ Russell pretends to choke on his coffee and says _“Are you kidding? He IS Coriolanus and has been playing to rave reviews every night…Where have you been Uma? He’s a celebrity in the States and has other things on the boil…”_

I shrug apologetically. _“I haven’t really seen movies for ages…”_

 _“I’ll leave two tickets for you at the door”_ says Tom.

 _“Thanks, Angus finishes his final exam tomorrow so we can have a treat.”_ I add. Tom nods slightly and before either of us can speak, Russell’s phone rings. When he answers he looks very concerned. _“She’s here… with us… at Coopers in Chancery Lane…”_ He hands the phone to me mouthing _“It’s Angus”._

I walk away with the phone and hear Angus’s angry voice asking why I didn’t take my phone with me. _“I was giving a speech and didn’t think I would need it…. Calm down… what’s happened?”_ He doesn’t know but when he answered my phone it was the Australian High Commissioner in London asking to speak with me urgently as well as Julian. Angus says he will bring the phone to me right now.

 _“Don’t … you have to study ?”_ I ask.

 _“Don’t Uma… I’m too tired“_ he says.

 _“I’ll come home…”_ I offer.

 _“No, I can see Russell at least…”_ He sounds put off.

As I give up frustrated and pissed off at his martyr role, I walk back to the table and see Russell and Tom earnestly in conversation heads near each other. I catch the tail end of their talk as Russell said _“Don’t- she’s not the type… and that’s just tough luck… and YOU have Samantha and lots of willing fans”_ Tom looks annoyed , Russell stern.

As I approach they move away from each other and there’s a silence as we all are absorbed in our own thoughts. Angus arrives with my phone and hastily shaking hands with Tom,he hugs Russell “Looking good mate” he says.

Stressed, Angus, hands me the phone. I hear Tom ask _“So how was the orthapedics placement you were looking forward to?”_ and Angus’s curt reply of _“A long time ago now…”_

I hear Tom speak again _“It must be a relief to know you finish tomorrow…”_ and this time Angus makes no reply simply looking at me as I dial the missed numbers. I watch Angus concerned and slightly ashamed at his behaviour as the Australian High Commissioner picks up my call and suddenly all thoughts shift. I listen to the High Commissioner and then call Julian in Indonesia. Shaking with anger and disbelief I walk back to the table half an hour later, shaking my head. There’s no appeal granted and the Indonesian authorities are threatening to bring the execution date forward.

Russell looks shocked and finally Angus says _“Well… nothing can be done tonight, come on let’s go home…”_ I suddenly feel exhausted and angry and ask him to call a cab out the front. Tom looks concerned and I say _“I’m sorry… Angus is under stress and can be curt… thank you for the tickets…”_ Tom waves his hand as if to say _“it’s nothing”_ and gives me a smile. I feel a sudden lurch at his generosity. For some reason I’m reluctant to even shake his hand in farewell, just waving to him. I kiss Russell before I leave for the cab promising to catch up before he leaves London.

The cab ride home is tense and silent. I don’t say anything to Angus during the ride and go quietly up to bed. _“Uma…”_ Angus starts. I turn and he sees my face. I don’t know what he sees but it’s enough to make him stop and say “ _It’s okay…we’ll talk later.”_ As I lie in bed that night, struggling for sleep I determinedly try not to think about a piercing pair of blue green eyes, an arresting smile and wonder who the hell Samantha is that Russell was referring to and what was the reference to the fans? And then I think… it shouldn’t matter to me as the conversation wasn’t meant for me… but for some reason it matters.

It’s wonderful to sleep in and when I wake up Angus has already left for the hospital. He arrives home tired but relieved in the afternoon. I remind him that we are seeing Coriolanus that night so goes to have a nap. I feel unsettled and the news from Indonesia has depressed me. Perhaps a night out at the theatre is just what we need.


	3. A Night At the Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Angus and Uma make it to Coriolanus. Uma sees a different side to Tom from before. Nothing drastic here.

Seeing Angus as he dresses that night reminds me why I fell in love with him. He’s humming and playful and tender as he stands in socks, boxer shorts and a shirt, putting his tie on. Even after seven years with him I still think he’s one of the most striking looking men I know. I feel churlish that I may be about to ruin his mood and then annoyed that I feel scared about talking out. We used to communicate well about anything _. “Haz, can I say something without you getting annoyed?”_

He looks at me quizzically .

_“Yesterday, you were under a lot of stress, and as you know you can come across as terse… and you were pretty rude to Tom who was just trying to be friendly under the circumstances.”_

Angus looks thoughtful and asks _“So did you apologise for me while I went out the front to get the cab?”_

 _“Yes”_ I reply.

He laughs as he knows me so well. _“OK I’ll apologise too… anything else..?”_

 _“Well my speech went well”_ I add reproaching him for not asking about it.

He looks genuinely chastened, _“I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a self absorbed shit… I’m glad.”_ He sits on the edge of the bed and then collapses backwards. I pounce and tickle him and it’s been so long since anything tactile has happened that it’s very pleasant and not at all routine.

Kissing him I whisper, _“Have we got time?”_ and for once we do.

Reconciled we arrive at the Donmar talking about nothing and everything. I wander around the foyer, absorbed in some of the posters from past plays. Angus picks up the tickets from the front desk and it occurs to me that we should thank Tom in some way for the tickets. This causes me uncharacteristic anxiety as I suddenly want to do the right thing by him and make a good impression. It’s unsettling and I feel a rare pang of guilt when I see Angus.

Tom’s face stares at us from the poster and I can see just how handsome he is despite the anguished face he has in the Coriolanus poster. Taller than Angus and with boyish good looks and those eyes…I find myself comparing the two men and feel treacherous. I pull myself up and realise that until now I have never found another man attractive while I’ve been with Angus.

The theatre foyer soon crowds and I’m surprised to see how many young 20 something year old women are in the audience. I’m feeling pleased that Shakespeare seems to appeal to so many young people when I hear one woman say _“He’s so hot… and in one scene he’s naked except for a thin shift and you can see everything… and I mean everything…”_

Shocked I look at Angus who suppresses a laugh.

Another one says _“Well as a certified Dragonfly I can only say that his Loki is unbeatable…”_ Her friend replies _“Yes, well just accept he has that cow Samantha and she’s hot too… in fact I saw her here earlier looking around… “_

Perplexed by the vocabulary I end up walking in to the theatre unsure now what to expect. Our seats are near the front. I am unsure as to how a Shakespeare play can be staged in such a small place.

As the play progresses, I am mesmerised as I see how a small theatre space can reflect a city, a crowd, a mood. There is Roman graffiti projected in the background on the walls, in the same way Romans loved their graffiti. As there are no wings the actors are all on stage but as still as statues when it is not their scene. There is a combination of modern and Roman dress, that still doesn’t manage to be incongruous and somehow with a minimum of props there is a purity to this performance I have not seen before.

I hadn’t thought of Tom as an actor and found myself marvelling at his performance. He appears, masculine and oozing testosterone as a man’s man- a warrior. His costume of black leggings and Roman jacket is very flattering. I find myself appreciating his body treacherously, and the graceful movements he uses. From the beginning he owns the language- and it sounds so natural from him. He had an inherent charisma and a centre of gravity as he roared and strode. I hate to admit it but I was happy to peek as he wore the shift and even Angus nudges me at that scene as a small collective sigh ripples through the audience.

I am slightly shocked and cannot reconcile the gentle listening stranger with the roaring charismatic actor I just saw.

At interval we get a drink and Angus turns to me puffing out his cheeks saying _“Our boy’s good…. Tom’s bloody brilliant.”_

A glamorous woman, aged about 30 with long chestnut hair looks at us and asks in a haughty voice “ _Excuse me, why do you call Tom “your boy”?”_

Angus raises an eyebrow at me and says to her _“We met him briefly and he was kind enough to give us tickets to tonight’s performance.”_

 _“Oh”_ she extends her hand, beautifully manicured(of course). “ _My name’s Samantha and I’m Tom’s girlfriend. He mentioned he befriended some Australians…”_

 _“We think he’s great- you must be so proud”_ I add.

 _“I am. He’s hugely talented and is making a stir in Hollywood as well. ”_ she replies. She really is stunning I notice with a pang and goes on to talk about her work. It’s some high flying and impressive corporate job involving PR and artists. Angus chats to her about his old work representing clients in that sector and I notice that her other female friends have turned away from her uninterested in us as she talks. Several twenty something women are looking at her and whispering but she’s confident enough to ignore them and even shoot them a contemptuous look later.

The second half is far more moving as Coriolanus kisses his wife, lingering on good bye and utters a small sigh. Later he is hung upside down and Angus whispers how impressed he is at how athletic Tom must be to do that. I feel more and more respect for Tom as an actor and an athlete to endure a performance like this night after night. The respect increases as we leave the theatre and we see him patiently sign playbills for what seems an endless queue of fans at the stage door. Amidst the noise, camera phones and chaos Angus yells out “ _Tom”._

He looks up and smiles as we mouth _“Thank You”_ to him.

Angus and I discuss the play on the way home. I think that what they’ve left out still makes the play work and Angus is particularly impressed by the intensity of the lighting and the synthesiser music. I add that we should invite Tom to dinner and then we both express that he may be too big a star for that… laughing.

March 2013

The next week is a blur of activity. Angus is on tenterhooks waiting for his results but still burying himself in his latest placement, Accident and Emergency. His hours are long and demanding and I barely see him but he comes home exhilarated telling me of how lives are saved even given the slimmest odds and the miracles performed by surgeons everyday. Angus’s biggest thrill has been putting in the stitches himself under the supervision of a registrar. He says, almost nonchalantly ,that he will be graduating in a year and for some reason I’m avoiding the implications of what he’s hinting at. He’s also planning an overseas placement in Thailand and I oddly breathe a sigh of relief that I’ll have the place to myself for five weeks.

I send a present along with a polite note to Tom care of the Donmar but am not sure if he’ll get it given the amount of fan mail he probably gets.

It reads _“Dear Tom, Thank you for one of the most entertaining evenings we have had in a long time. Your acting was superb- and Angus feels that from a medical perspective the physicality of your performance was most impressive. Angus enjoyed meeting your gorgeous girlfriend (of course)and chatted shop with her quite for a while._

_Enclosed is one of my favourite books which I hope you have not read. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller describes the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus in a vibrant and heartwrenching way. I hope the classical perspective appeals to you and that you enjoy the book as much as I have.(It’s much easier going than Richard’s novel) We wanted to invite you to dinner- but realise that you are far too big a star to grace our domestic presence and we would have too tough a job sweeping away the rose petals after you left. But instead, if you are in the area feel free to call us on… and drop in. We colonials don’t stand on ceremony. Warm Regards Uma and Angus.”_

I labour over the wording and am self conscious about striking the right tone which troubles me little as it shouldn’t matter so much.

 _“That’s that”,_ I think and resolving to put the matter out of my mind decide to bury myself in my work as well. Julian, my boss has returned to Australia from Indonesia and will soon be on his way to London to talk shop with some human rights barristers. Richard the ex- tutor will also be in London and at our next meeting, I will no doubt be expected to talk about his novel which means I am busy reading it properly.

 


	4. A fated coffee.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Uma run into each other at her favourite coffee place. A rapport is established. Light.

May 2013

That Monday I am snowed with journalist interviews and press releases about the Bali prisoners as the latest development is about another possible appeal to the Indonesian constitutional court. In our last phone call, Julian has said the prisoners were in good spirits but I knew how demoralising it must be for them.

Getting up to go for a lunchtime walk and grab some fresh air I head to Quixote for the usual double shot cappuccino. I love that place, hidden away in Chancery Lane and had stumbled upon it when lost. Run by an expat Mexican couple I ate whatever they served me, and drank their amazing coffee. It was tucked away behind a tiny door and has three tables in a closed off courtyard. I love the atmosphere as it was a tiny oasis in London and I thought of it as mine, having jealously guarded its whereabouts from even my work colleagues. “My secret garden” I joked with the owners. Russell and Angus are the only ones whom I had brought there and even Russell, difficult to please, had reluctantly conceded it was a treasure.

I was often the only one there and today I was surprised to see one other person in a hoodie and sunglasses sitting at a table reading. Maria came out with the coffee and my lunch, today a type of chorizo and bean stew.

I thanked her and she said to me in her broken English, _“Why you so thin now… eat eat…” Mr ‘Angus he come here last week and he say all he do is study study and all you do is work work. It’s not good for you young people to be like that. Eat Eat….”_ I hug her and sit down spreading my feet under the table enjoying the sunshine. Finally Summer is approaching in London.

It was then that I hear that voice which literally makes me stop mid mouthful. _“You were right, the coffee is fantastic here.”_ I look at the other customer who has taken his sunglasses off by this time and as I see his green blue eyes, experience a sense of momentary paralysis.

I think my face must show my surprise as Tom quietly gets up and sits opposite me saying _“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier.”_

 _“No that’s fine, I’m just surprised to see you here.”_ I _start ”I’m a bit territorial about it, so please don’t share this place with anyone else. It’s my haven…”_ I trail off.

Annoyed I change the topic _“So did you get our note and book?”_ He looks perplexed. _“I sent it to the Donmar to thank you.”_ I add.

 _“No, I get a lot of fan mail so my publicist Luke deals with it.”_ Tom replies.

 _“I thought that would happen”_ I acknowledge.

 _“I’ll make sure I keep an eye out for it though…”_ Tom adds.

 _“No it’s fine… I wanted to thank you as we had a great time.”_ Then out of some long lost sense of mischief I say _“Angus really enjoyed speaking with your girlfriend at the interval.”_ Tom looks wary… _“Samantha, she sounds as if she has a fascinating job”_ I press on. Tom gives a slight nod and before he can speak again I go on _“Isn’t this out of your usual way?”_ He suddenly lookes haunted and _says “I find it hard to go to my usual places now in London as I am getting better known…”_ After seeing his fan base at the Donmar I understand. _“I hope they don’t find this one…”_ I add.

Tom smiles, _“I’m sure they won’t. It’s too out of their way_.”

 _“Please travel incognito”_ I plead. I am suddenly aware of being alone with him and feel self conscious.

 _“So what’s the book you sent to me?”_ Tom asks, breaking the silence.

 _“You’ll have to wait and see, give you an impetus to plough through your fan mail and let them partake of you…”_ I add with the same sense of mischief.

 _“What are you reading?”_ He holds up “At Last” by Edward St Aubyn. I am genuinely thrilled as I tell Tom how I saw St Aubyn at last year’s Sydney’s Writer Festival and how “At Last “ was one of the better books in the series. We discuss our favourite passages and I become more aware of his impressive intelligence as he speaks. He is a superb mimic of course and recites one of the funeral passages in such a hilarious manner that I start laughing hard. I say _“As awful as it sounds my favourite part is when he says that his mother’s death is the best thing to happen since… well his father’s death… Given his family it’s not surprising.”_ It is a delight to talk to him and it must show as Maria brings out some water she says _“So good to see Uma smile … she work work work…too hard.”_

 _“Maria this is my friend Tom…”_ I say surprised to hear the word “friend” come to me so easily. If he is surprised he doesn’t show it and smiles graciously at her.

She melts immediately _. “Ah Tomaso…”_ and Tom begins to speak in Spanish to her. Maria cannot hide her delight as he so obviously flirts with her and makes her laugh.

As she leaves smiling I say _“You’re a rogue, you know that? You crash my turf and win over the management in the matter one hour…”_ Looking at my watch, I tell him it is time for me to go- _“Thanks for the company though I feel recharged.”_ I add.

Tom looks pleased and I realise that he is a genuinely nice person as well as someone (I admit) I am very attracted to. A lethal combination and something to be wary of. But I remind myself that I am with Angus and he is with Samantha - if she is his type, then there is nothing that can happen. At the office, my colleague, George comments _“You look different Uma, more alive.”_

_“I had a good lunch George. With a friend.”_

The rest of the afternoon is spent talking to more journalists and Australian embassy staff in Indonesia. My mobile phone starts ringing and seeing the number listed as “private” I think it is family from Australia. _“Yes…”_ I say huffily expecting another lecture from my Mother.

 _”Gosh, is that your usual phone manner?”_ asks Tom.

 _“No, sorry,”_ I find myself smiling _“I thought it was my Mother… and I wasn’t up for one of our little talks today…”_

 _“Ok… well I just wanted to say I found your book and note, that was very kind. I look forward to reading the book… and if the rose petals are a problem I can meet you guys elsewhere….”_ Tom laughs. I realise how much I enjoy his laugh- it is spontaneous and affirming. Sigh.

 _“I’m sure we can work something out… and feel free to call and see if we’re around after you do a rehearsal or something as we’re not too far from the theatre.”_ I smile and hang up thinking that I enjoy speaking with him way too much and hope that Angus is around if he comes to visit.


	5. An Incident at the Theatre in which our heroine helps a vulnerable and wounded Tom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a reported event after a session of Coriolanus. I don't think it went as far as this. But this is FICTION. I want to show a bit more of the relationship she has with Angus as well.  
> Someone asked what he looks like. Most negligent not to put it in. He's five foot 11 ish. Very handsome, dark hair tinged with grey. At uni he looked like a young Keanu Reeves.

 

June 2013

It’s 11 pm and Angus has just called to say he’s on his way back home. I hang up and the phone rings immediately again…. Not checking the number I assume it’s Angus about to ask me if we need anything from the supermarket on the way home… _“yeees”_ I say warily.

 _“Uma, it’s Luke, Tom’s publicist…I hope I haven’t woken you up…”_ He sounds stressed.

 _“No, what’s up?”_ I ask surprised.

_“Look there’s been an incident at the theatre and Tom needs a safe place to stay tonight… there are fans lining up outside his house and it’s a bit mad here…”_

_“Of course he can stay here if he wants…”_ I reply.

 _“I need to take him to the hospital first as he … Um… needs a few stitches…”_ Luke goes on.

 _“Can you take him to Barts? I’ll see if Angus can arrange something there.”_ I say.

I call Angus and explain the situation quickly. He stays at the hospital and waits for Tom while I get the spare room ready. What happened? Why does he need stitches? Suddenly very worried I am wide awake. Thinking of all the permutations and combinations of accidents out there I come up with an impressive array of incidents… and then realise I’m also flattered that he chose us as a safe house.

I end up dozing off around midnight on the couch and find myself being shaken awake by Angus. In cotton pyjamas with messed up hair, I must look a sight. Tom, dressed casually in black jeans and a blue tshirt, has his hand bandaged and a bottle of what looks like pain killers in his other hand. He looks drained and upset _._

 _“We’ve had quite a night mate.”_ says Angus _“Let’s get this guy to bed and we can talk in the morning.”_

Tom looks at me very grateful and suddenly very vulnerable.

 _“Do you want something to eat? Either of you_?” I ask.

 _“Not me, I’m off to bed”_ says Angus.

 _“Actually I am hungry”_ says Tom _”If you don’t mind.”_

 _“No that’s fine, I think we have spaghetti bolognaise which I can microwave and some crème caramel… which I made on the weekend..”_ I add.

 _“That would be great…”_ Tom says quietly.

I haven’t seen him so subdued and as I prepare the meal he asks _“Would you like to know what happened?”_

 _“Only if you want to tell me”_ I reply.

He looks so tired and I feel for him.

 _” We can talk tomorrow. Did Angus do your stitches_?” I add

 _“No Luke insisted that we have a consultant so Angus asked one as a favour. We sent him tickets to Coriolanus as well.”_ Tom says.

I giggle at that _._

Tom goes on“ _Angus also apologised about his behaviour that night at the Amnesty dinner.”_

I find myself relieved.

So Tom eats and compliments me on the food. He must have been hungry as I give him a second plate and he devours that along with the crème caramel.

 _“They gave me something for the pain and something to help me sleep”_ he points to the bottle.

 _“Would you like a shower?”_ I ask and grab some towels out of the linen cupboard.

 _“No,”_ he says miserably _“can’t get my bandages wet…”_ He took one of the tablets earlier after the crème caramel and I can see him getting more drowsy.

 _“Come on”,_ I show him up the stairs into the guest room. _“I’m afraid I don’t have any pyjamas for you … you’re taller than Angus…. And I’ve knicked his spare set”_ I said pointing to what I was wearing.

 _“You’re such a fucking couple!”_ he suddenly exclaims in a tone I can’t place and I realise the sleeping tablets must be making him disinhibited.

I am shocked at his words and say _“I’ll go now…”_ getting ready to switch off the light.

 _“No don’t”_   Tom says suddenly.

 _“Stay until I fall asleep… please… I’ve had an awful night_.” He whispers.

He suddenly sounds and looks very young and I am touched thinking of my ten year old godson Alex, who had an identical look when he had his tonsils out. I turn around as he undresses and slips into bed.

 _“ Don’t worry Uma, you won’t see anything you don’t want to… but hey look on Tumblr and see what some of my so called fans have made… you can see anything you want”_ .He sounds bitter and tired. I have no idea what Tumblr is and switching the light off I go to leave.

 _“I’m not asleep yet...”_ he says. I sit on the chair next to the bed and wait for him to sleep. In the moonlight I can see his torso, marbled and sculpted. It’s perfect and I feel a wave of lust mixed with tenderness.

I try to refocus on him being helpless and I tell him how this reminds me of sitting next to my ten year old godson’s hospital bed after his tonsil operation.

 _“Do you like kids? I bet you love them...”_ Tom whispers.

 _“I do”_ I admit.

 _“So do I”_ he says. I can imagine that.

 _“Say something. “_ Tom commands

_“Go to sleep Tom.”_

_“No I mean tell me a story or recite a poem you like… you must know some if you’re such a reader.”_ Tom goes on.

I rack my brains and find a poem I had to learn in Year 12 _…”Ok, this is called Five Visions of Captain Cook’ by an Australian poet… Kenneth Slessor. Slessor was cool. He was at the same school as Angus and Errol Flynn… who got thrown out for an incident with a chamber maid.”_

Tom giggles and then says in an Australian accent _“Australians can’t write poems.”_

 _”Don’t make me hurt you Tom… you’re vulnerable… and Cook was an Englishman you moronic limey”_ I find myself smiling.

 _“Ouch, ok … let’s hear Captain Cook…”_ he whispers

I start _“Cook was a captain of the admiralty , when sea captains had the evil eye ,_

_or should have what with beating evil krakens off and existing nativities of ships; Cook was a captain_

_of the powder-days when captains, you might have said, if you had been fixed by their glittering_

_stare, half-down the side, or gaping at them up companionways, were more like warlocks than a humble man- “_

and by the end of the first stanza I hear him breathing sleep.

I cannot for the life of me tell you how I feel other than confused. I climb into bed next to Angus and kiss him gently thanking him for the apology and for looking after Tom. _“s’allright”_ he says in his sleep and turns away from me on his side. I try not to read any special significance into that. He often sleeps on his left side.

Angus has left by the time I get up. It’s been a tough night with dreams of me kissing a handsome vulnerable man with green/blue eyes and blond curly hair. I keep waking up and wondering where I am. Finally I go into the guest room and see that Tom is fast asleep still. It’s weird given that I have spent the night dreaming about him and I feel more unsettled than ever. I have to be vigilant as it would be too easy to fall for this guy, we get on so well and I have to admit I feel alive in his presence.

Fortunately I can work from home that day as I call the office and arrange to have all calls diverted to me. I still feel uncomfortable but strangely excited by Tom’s presence but try not to think about it as I turn on the television and catch an early morning gossip show. I catch the words “Coriolanus” and “Hiddleston” so turn up the volume.

 _“Well wasn’t last night something else?“_ says the pretty blonde morning chat show host.

 _“I’ll say Kate”_ says her male counterpart. _“Poor Tom Hiddleston being the gentleman he was stayed behind as usual to sign autographs when a group of his young and very forward fans calling themselves Dragonflies…. groped him…”_

Kate wrinkles her nose in disgust and says _“Yes, apparently they called security as he was pushed down by the crowd, cutting himself on some broken glass which some young fan had stupidly left on the sidewalk.”_

The male went on to say _“Well at least it wasn’t his face. He’s no doubt recuperating at his house… or that of the delicious Samantha”_ and a photo of her came up on screen.

The camera then shot to what I suppose was the outside of Tom’s house with a group of young fans waiting outside hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Kate went on _“The Donmar has released a statement that said due to the regrettable incident there will be no further autograph signings at the stage door as security will turn all fans away.”_

I turned the television off, very perturbed and made some coffee. The mobile phone rings and it’s Russell. I bring him up to speed on events and he invites himself over for a late breakfast. Russell is sitting at the breakfast table looking concerned. Tom is still asleep and I can see that Russell wants to say something and get it off his chest. For some reason he can’t do it at the moment and asks if he can ring me from Australia _._

 _“We can talk now…”_ I add and Russell says looking up to the guest room _“Actually we can’t.”_ So it’s about Tom.

Russell brings the topic back around to Angus and the prospect of marriage. I’m a bit surprised when Russell asks again, if I think I’ll marry him.

 _“Honestly Russell…I have no idea.”_ I add.

 _“Why not? You’ve had so long together and you’re such a good team.”_ He replies.

 _“I haven’t given it much thought…”_ I lie.

Russell looks sceptical _“You give everything thought. You overanalyse everything so if you’ve made up your mind not to marry him you probably have reasons…”_

_“I don’t… it’s just that I honestly find it tough to think about.”_

_“Don’t you want children?”_ Russell asks.

 _“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure… given my own childhood.”_ I add uncertainly.

Russell realises he’s trodden on toes and pulls back.

 _“Why are you so worried anyway… I’m big enough to look after myself and for all you know Angus may have cooled off the idea… There are times I feel…”_ and then find myself unable to speak further as I have not even really admitted this to myself.

Russell waits and I say _“Don’t worry we’ll sort it out.”_

 _“Ok, I’m worried because I think you’re vulnerable and I can’t talk now. But I promise we’ll talk later”_ Rusell adds.

I’m suddenly feeing very guilty and apprehensive wondering if my dreams have shown all over my face or if I’ve betrayed my attraction for Tom in some way. I’m confused and Russell is frustrated at not being able to talk so it’s not the best start to the day. I hear noise from upstairs and take a cup of coffee up.

 _“God”_ I think to myself _“I need to stop and think before I walk in to these situations.”_ Tom is wearing only his boxer shorts and wiping the sleep out of his eyes. His body looks even more impressive in the morning and I have to ignore the wave of desire that just hits me.

 _“Umm “_ suddenly I’m very awkward _“How are you this morning?”_

He looks rested but a bit sombre. _“Much better thanks”_ sitting up and taking the cup of proffered coffee. _“Thanks for this.”_

_“Don’t get up unless you have to and Russell’s downstairs. He came over after he heard what happened at the Theatre yesterday….I saw it on the news…”_

Tom nods yawning and I wonder quickly without warning, what it would be like to wake up next to him every day. Seeing his eyes open slowly and drowsily, aroused and…..

_“See you downstairs if you want …Have a shower in the meantime if you want”_

I walk downstairs quickly trying not to think of him bare chested upstairs. Russell and I talk more about the plight of the Bali prisoners but he can see I am distracted. I decide to sway the topic to acting which is a sure way of engaging Russell in one of the things he is most passionate about.

I ask if he’s seen Birdsong with Eddie Redmayne and we discuss Eddie's skilled performance. I am discussing the interview Eddie gave on the extras part of the DVD when Tom enters, fully dressed still drinking his coffee.

“ _What did Eddie Redmayne say?_ “ prompts Russell.

 _“Well he came across as very intelligent and emotionally intelligent for a bloke our age… I was very impressed”_ I add.

Russell adds “anyway what did Mr Redmayne say that made such an impression?”

Suddenly I am aware of Tom’s gaze on me, quietly waiting for a response.

 _“Oh he just talked about love and how it encompasses the spectrum of feelings from passion to friendship and affection… and I thought it was romantic and practical at the same time. I remember thinking that whoever ends up with Eddie will be one lucky girl… he seems grounded”_ I trail off as I see them looking at me.

Russell adds _“ He’s certainly one gifted actor. Tom was at school with him, the same year wasn’t it mate?”_

 _“No, he was the year below”_ Tom says quietly… _“but I didn’t know him well and I think he has a girlfriend…”_

 _“That’s fine as Uma isn’t in the market for a new love…”_ Russell adds.

I feel odd and out of place in this conversation.

Tom as if sensing a new vibe says almost challengingly _“By the way, I went to Quixote and I agree, the coffee’s out of this world.”_

Russell looks unimpressed and turns to me _“So did you run into each other?”_

 _“ We did…”_ and then feeling as if I were being accused of something tried to change the tone _“My main fear is Tom’s fans will find the place and it won’t be my secret garden anymore…”_

I realise that in light of what happened last night that may be insensitive…. So quickly change the topic. It’s a different dynamic from when we were last together and completely charged with something I can’t identify. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between Russell and Tom which leaves me confused.

I go to pick up the paper and see that Angus has finished the crossword again. _“He’s done it again… the bloody crossword…”_

I look at Russell who laughs. _“Uma went to a psychic years ago who said she ends up with a striking looking man who finishes crosswords before she does…”_

 _“She was right about a lot of things… wasn’t she.. including your Academy Award?”_ I add… speaking about Lavinia the family psychic.

 _“What did she say about Angus ?”_ asks Tom.

_"She added that I would end up with be someone I knew at university but someone I had no time for there- and his initial was A."_

Tom looks intrigued _“Why didn’t you have any time for him?”_

_“Oh I sat behind him in lectures for an entire semester and he didn’t even turn around to say hello once, he seemed too cool for school, playing rugby and cricket, having the trophy blonde girlfriend … very conventional… I was involved with student politics and women’s issues, a bit bolshy and we came from different worlds… There was a coterie of pretty girls who would dote on him… pathetically… and I didn’t give him a second thought until I ran into him years later at a friend’s house.”_

Tom is laughing and then prompts _“And he’d changed? How?”_

I am surprised by his curiosity, _“Yes, in eight years, he had grown up. We were talking about Women’s day marches or something and he said that he wouldn’t have been caught dead at one at uni, but he would go to one now…and I felt chastened as I had him pinned as a bit of a jock and by the company he kept, someone racist and WASPY, he certainly wouldn’t have gone out with an Asian girl at uni then…. And he turned out to be quite different years later and it was a lesson in acknowledging that people can change….”_

Tom is smiling, while Russell added _“And Lavinia the family psychic ran their birthdates through some horoscope software and came out with a pretty accurate picture of their relationship.”_

I giggle _“Oh that was hilarious…cafeastrology…and yes, it was spot on… although he was suspicious why I kept asking his birthtime and where he was born…which we needed for the horoscope.”_

Russell adds _“I have no idea of when I was born… I should ask Mum but I don’t believe in all that crap…”_

Tom says _“Don’t you ? I think it’s intriguing… There are more things in heaven and earth”_

 _“than are dreamt of in your philosophy….”_ I finish.

 _“Bingo”_ said Tom smiling, _“I was a morning birth but I don’t know the exact time.. When were you born?”_

 _I tell him the date and time- “the hottest day of Summer in New Delhi….my mother never forgave me for being a girl and then for putting her through that labour”_ I say realising I revealed too much and then changed the topic to different things. Tom’s eyes narrow and I go back to my computer.

I check out of the conversation while the two of them talk shop and discuss how Tom can take off his bandages for tonight’s performance. Russell is leaving for Australia that night and offers to take Tom back to the theatre.

 _“No need, I’ve cancelled the rehearsal and will go straight to the performance.”_ Tom replies

I add _“Look it’s fine if you want to stay here….I can drive you there tonight or you can cab it.”_ Suddenly remembering Samantha I add _“Although you probably need to be somewhere else today perhaps?”_

 _“No, thanks for the offer, I’d like to go back to sleep upstairs if I may…”_ Tom suddenly sounds tired.

_“Of course”._

Russell looks on tense and leaving whispers _“I will call you from back home…”_

 I remember worriedly about the other things Lavinia said and what my horoscope said. She was rarely wrong.

Tom yells from upstairs _“Are you on Facebook?”_

“Yes, “ I reply

_"I’ll send you a friend invite but it’s not my real name so say yes…to Will Stone.”_

I log on the computer and accept Will Stone’s invite. It has a photo of a small red poppy in the portrait. I yell upstairs _“Angus is also on Facebook. His surname is Watson… you should friend him too.”_

While I’m on Facebook, I private message Lavinia and say _“Shit, I think it’s happening….”_

It’s night time in Australia so she’s awake and she writes back _“Be careful and follow your integrity.”_

I message her _“Do you still get the same vibe from him?”_

She writes _“Yes, that’s why I say be careful.”_

As I go upstairs to the shower I can hear Tom on the phone annoyed with someone _“No, I’m fine I’m just at a friend’s house. Angus and Uma… you met them at the play…”_ Ah Samantha ! _“ I don’t know Samantha… I’ll call you and let you know… I just need to recover at the moment. Ok… bye”_ he says tensely.

When I return dressed, Tom is looking through my book collection. There are more in the other room and downstairs if you want… _“No… I’m just surprised at the number of books on Katharine Hepbu_ rn"

 _“Oh she’s amazing I adore her. But she couldn’t do Shakespeare.”_ I add.

 _“No, she was pretty dismal at that”_ he agrees. _“That’s unfortunate as it’s the milestone for any serious actor…”_

_“Well you must be proud of your Coriolanus…”_

_“Sometimes, but every performance I think there’s so much more I can improve on…if only I could do THAT scene again…”_ he says almost to himself. _“I drive everyone mad at rehearsal by asking if we could replay certain scenes but they want to press on.”_

 _“Perfectionism can be pretty destructive…in search of that ideal”_ I say. I cannot think of anymore to say then so I add _“I have to do some work downstairs, but we have books and CD’s or if you want to sleep… again… or eat… let me know.”_

He seems to think of something and then adds _“Weren’t you meant to go to work today?”_

 _“I was but I called in and said I would work from home today and they were fine about it. I didn’t say why.”_ I add to reassure him his privacy was fine.

He looks touched and his eyes darken. _“Thank you for that….for being a friend.”_

I realise this is a good opportunity to say aloud, for myself more than anyone _“It’s good to have an English friend in London. We… don’t know many English….”_

And with that I leave for downstairs to try, futilely to concentrate on my work and the morass of emotions and thoughts going on inside me. I am thinking, that once today is over…it could be a good idea to see as little as I can of Tom Hiddleston despite me assuring him I’m a friend. The day passes quickly enough even though I’m nowhere near as productive as usual . I make a sandwich for him at lunch and excuse myself as I have to do some more work. He looks preoccupied anyway, and goes back upstairs.

By the time five o’clock comes, he is downstairs and ready to leave for the theatre. He says he’ll call a cab and at the door turns to me. Somber again he says _“Thanks – so much”_ and hugs me and kisses me on the cheek. I turn my head at the wrong time and end up kissing him on the mouth. I’m stunned and can’t move and he deepens the kiss bringing his impressively large hands to cup my face. It’s glorious and electrifying, and suddenly that panics me finally bringing me to my senses and I push away. He’s so muscled and tough that it takes a few seconds for him to register what I’m doing.

I must look shocked as he looks suddenly looks concerned and something else which I can’t name…

I blurt out _“Sorry… I’m so sorry.”_ I find myself turning red, shaking slightly . I cross my arms in front of me, and say _“Have a great night Tom…”_ He nods quickly , clearly uncomfortable and leaves. I sit down replaying the scene over and over. Why did I turn my head? Did I want to? Did he turn his head instead? Why did he want to deepen the kiss… What does this mean? Do I tell Angus? What do I tell Angus? How does Tom feel? I realise that this question matters most to me but it should matter least.

I can hear my breath coming in short spurts and my heart is beating so loudly the neighbours must be able to hear it…..OK I tell myself, it was a mistake, a mistake. No biggie, just a mistake. I sit down on the couch and rest. A text alert comes through and I think it must be Angus although he doesn’t usually text at this time, which is 6pm.

 _“Are you ok?”_ I don’t recognise the number.

 _“Sorry who is this?”_ I text back.

_“tom.”_

I don’t know what to write. I put the phone down and think.

Another text alert comes _“????”_ .

I decide on the safe flippant option. _“All Swell here. Break a leg. Uma.”_ And then cheesily send a smiley.

Angus comes home early and chats. He asks if I’m ok as I look a bit tired. I tell him I’m fine and that Tom got away to the theatre well. I add that he was very grateful for us helping him. Angus laughs disbelievingly _“Poor bloke was groped and fell….not a good night for him.”_

I don’t know how to act normally or what I would have done before this afternoon.

I listen to him speak about his day and tell him I’ll join him later for bed as I have some more work to do. As I sit at my computer I realise that I feel profoundly lonely and wish I could talk to someone about this. I can’t talk to even Amanda as I feel so guilty and wretched and yet, it has to be said, aroused. The thought of being turned on by one bloke and climbing into bed next to another is a new experience for me and one that makes me feel treacherous.

Angus asks me when we climb into bed what I want to do in a week for my birthday. I honestly hadn’t thought of it and say _“I think I’d like to go away. Do you think you could get away for a weekend?”._

He looks at me thoughtfully and asks _“Tired of London already?”_

_“No, but I would like to get away…”_

_“Where?”_

_“How about Cumbria?”_

Used to my whimsies, he says _“Why?”_

_“I want to see the Lakes District.”_

_“As good a reason as any..”_ and turns on his left to sleep.

I put my hand around his shoulder and pull him back to me. _“Angus… I kissed Tom.”_

 _“What?”_ he whispers confused.

 _“I mean, he went to kiss me on the cheek and I turned accidentally and he got my mouth…and it was weird._ I whisper relieved to get it off my chest.

Angus sounds amused when he says _“Dear me Uma, we’ll have to break up…Why even mention it?”_

_“I thought I should…”_

_“You ARE funny he says, too too sweet.”_ He draws me back to him and kisses the back of my neck… _“so”_ he says _“was it like this kiss….”_ He kisses me lightly on the lips, _“or like this….”_ Deepening the kiss. I have to admit, it’s nice not electrifying but safe and accepting and familiar and…. nice.

I find my old self returning and say _“Look at least pretend to be outraged, and the least you can do is challenge him to a duel…”_

Angus says _“Are you serious, after seeing his physique in the play… I’d die quickly… although maybe his stitches will slow him down and give me a fighting chance…”_


	6. A birthday in Cumbria- where our heroine and Angus have a relaxing time and get unexpected presents.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Uma's birthday and it's off to Beatrix Potter country for them. So she meets some of the English aristocracy- Holker Hall is real and is meant to be beautiful as well as run by some lovely aristocrats.  
> Uma gets some unexpected presents. So TH is still there. And more perceptive than she thought. Fluff- but tolerable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff but necessary fluff. Thanks to Ms Fangirl from Thiddy Astrology for her support. And for SpadesJade- wonderful woman.

The week flies and I manage to stay away from Quixote. It’s the first week I haven’t been there since I discovered the place. It means acknowledging that Tom Hiddleston has an influence on my life but if that’s what it takes, I’m determined to do it.

I miss Maria and the food, but I feel happy that I have made my decision and intend to adhere to it. For all I know he wants nothing to do with me and is busy with Samantha. I try not to let my thoughts go there.  Although I feel a tad out of sorts, that I haven’t heard from him. It takes all my self discipline not to Google him. I would have done so out of mild interest before but these last few weeks have seen him take on a different significance so it’s harder not to look him up.

I tell myself that soon he’ll be a fond memory in the corner of my mind. Really, he will. Soon.

 I decide to take on more work by applying for tutoring at the London School of Economics Law School.  Medical school fees are due soon; even though the English pound is high against the Australian dollar and we live rent free, I feel the need to start accumulating some more money as my job pays so little. I quickly get back into an even pace.

 We make arrangements to go to Cumbria and I delight in taking the train and staying a long  weekend at Holker Hall, one of England’s most historic homes. We love the surroundings and the weather is perfect with talk of midsummer celebrations.

 June 21st usually falls in Winter in Australia so we’re lucky to have Summer for my birthday. It’s a relaxing weekend looking at deer and going for walks in the most beautiful surroundings.  Angus and I look at the exquisite garden and are admiring the sunflowers when a gentleman in worn corduroy trousers and a linen shirt stops to talk to us. Angus’s family grow sunflowers on their property in rural Australia and he ends up talking to the man for a while about gardening techniques. After the man introduces himself I realise I am speaking to the aristocratic owner of Holker Hall.

 _“You’re the owner here! How are we meant to address you?” I_ ask smiling.

 _“Just call me Hugh,”_ he replies. He adds _“Is anyone really an owner, my dear? I just see myself as a custodian holding onto this for the next generation.”_

I smile again and say _“That’s an extraordinary way of looking at it.”_

Hugh is joined by his wife, a tall and striking looking woman with grey hair and fine features. The stereotype of an aristocrat but most disarming as she asks _“And how long have you been together?”_

Angus replies _“Oh about seven years now.”_

She nods and says _“I thought so, you’re a lovely looking couple and I can see you know each other well.”_

Angus and I look at each other and smile.

Texts come from Australia and I even manage to be civil to my parents who call.  Russell texts and arranges to speak with me next week. I feel slightly anxious about that given I want Tom sidelined in my life for now and have no desire to speak about him.

Angus presents me with a small book and I find it’s an early edition of Rupert Brooke’s poems. He’s inscribed “ _to dearest U on this loveliest of midsummer days… thanks for being and bringing so much happiness to me. Haz_ ” I laugh as it’s a silly joke of ours that I call him “Haz” from time to time to remind him of when I thought he was named Harry. The shared past helps me feel more settled and at peace than I have for a long time .  When we get back to our cottage he presents me with another wrapped present, a small box. I look at him surprised.

 _“Go on, open it”_ he urges.

I do, opening the light turquoise Tiffany suede pouch and see a fine exquisitely wrought gold wire bracelet. It’s 18 carat gold according to the stamp.  Perplexed I look at him.

 _“ But you’ve already given me a present.”_ I protest. I silently wonder how he can afford this given our budget.

_“Now before you say anything about cost, my last two years’ tax returns finally came in and I thought it was time to treat you properly. Mum helped me pick this over Skype when I was at Tiffanys. And I know how much you would love a gold bracelet. “_

I am amused and very very moved at the thought of him in Tiffanys. I can visualise him, helpless on Skype to his Mum in Australia trying to pick a proper bracelet. Jewellery has always been a touchy subject with me. Coming from an Indian family there is a vast array of family jewellery my Mother has from my Grandmothers which was meant to be handed down to me.

My Mother has so far found every excuse not to pass it on, and in her twisted way went so far as to give one of my female cousins, Priya, some of the jewellery instead of me. When I asked why, she said _“Well SHE’S married and you’re not.”_

I was devastated and told Angus about it, doubting that he understood the significance of the heirloom jewellery.  Yet he’d obviously seen the impact my Mother’s actions had on me and was trying to console me in some way.

 _“Thank you”_ I say, unable to say anymore. I immediately put it on and it fits perfectly.

We catch the train back to London and I put my head on Angus’s shoulder as he puts his arm around me. I put my left hand under his jumper and rest my hand just above his heart falling asleep to his heartbeat. After a couple of hours I wake up. Angus is reading a book and I laugh.

 _“What’s so funny mademoiselle?”_ he asks.

_“I sat behind you in Law School and if someone then had said, ‘that’s the guy you end up with’, I would have laughed.”_

_“Oh…?”_ he asks challengingly.

_“You weren’t even aware of my existence. I thought you were a pretty college boy, completely up yourself, with your blonde trophy girl wearing her Liberty shirts and silver fob chains.“_

He smiles and looks down at , his brown eyes glinting _“Actually I was very aware of you.”_

I am surprised that we have not had this conversation before.

_“Really?”_

_“Well considering how extroverted you and your friends were I used to listen to you talk before the lecture started and hear the next chapter of your soap opera lives.  I wonder if that red haired girl ever closed the deal with that guy she liked.”_ Angus muses.

 _“Oh Madelaine? She did, but then he turned out to be gay, in his 30s…”_ I reply. “ _Why didn’t you turn around and say hello?”_

 _“Honestly? I was intimidated by all of you. Especially you. You just seemed so… confident.”_ He replies.

 _“God, if only we had told each other what we were really like.”_ I add.

 _“It turned out well though. I don’t think I was ready for you at uni. I was clueless_.” Angus says candidly and reaches down to kiss me.

 _“Wheareas I knew it all.”_ I add drolly. We both laugh.

 _“Uma”_ he takes a deep breath _“At some stage you need to make a choice about marriage. I haven’t wanted to push you but you need to give it some serious thought. We’re not getting any younger…”_ he says gently.

I look up at him and nod seriously going to pull away. He pulls me closer to him. We continue the journey in silence.

 As we reach our house our neighbour, Sarah, puts her head out her window and said _“There’s a delivery package for you Uma. I signed for it.”_ Angus collects it, it’s a large framed item carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and brown paper with a courier’s tag on it along with a bottle of Grey Goose vodka.

 _“Well someone was thinking of you”_ Angus says as I start tearing the paper off. There is a framed poster of Katharine Hepburn standing on Carey Grant’s shoulders, a screen shot from their movie, Holiday.  I’m surprised as I have a postcard of the same shot on my wall in the guest room.

I look more closely at the poster and see Katharine Hepburn’s original signature in the corner. _“Wow look at that! It must have cost a fortune.”_ I exclaim as I show Angus.

I wonder who would send such a present when Angus finds the card attached to the brown paper. He opens it, it and reads it out _“Happy Birthday Uma, hope you like the Katharine Hepburn poster and hope Angus likes the vodka as a thank you for your help last month. Much Love to both of you Tom.”_

Angus looks at the vodka and  poster, shakes his head and says _“Wow Uma, that must have been some kiss.”_ I look at him and shake my head. As if on cue the phone rings and it’s Tom’s number. _“Hello you, are your ears burning? We were just talking about you._ ” I laugh.

 _“Hey Uma”_ says his incredible voice. I realise this is the first time I’ve spoken to him since the kiss _“Thank you for the gifts, they’re magnificent… Here Angus wants to say thank you too.” I_ say. I’m happy to hand the phone over to Angus as an excuse not to talk any longer.

 Angus looks surprised but takes the phone and says _“Mate thanks… No we’ve just got back from Cumbria. Mademoiselle wanted to see the Lakes District… and I dutifully took her…and yes I accepted your Facebook request, enjoyed seeing those photos of you at some cast party… almost makes me wish I were single again…”_

I look up wondering what photos he’s speaking about. _”Here Uma is looking daggers at me…so I’ll hand the phone back. “_

 _“So did you enjoy the Lakes District?”_ Tom asks

_“It was great thanks, and a lovely birthday weekend… to get out of London… How’s the hand?”_

_“Oh fine just another scar…to add to the rugby scars and skateboarding scars and mental pain_ ” he says theatrically.

 _“A lifetime’s experience. “_ I add _“Well I’m a firm believer we subconsciously attract things to ourselves to learn… so who knows what you were meant to get out of the experience…”_

He doesn’t’ skip a beat and says drily _“A chance to be introduced to Kenneth Slessor and cafeastrology… which has proven to be a most interesting site.”_

 I laugh and say _“There you go… the universe is rewarding you…”_

Tom asks suddenly _“And what did Angus give you?”_

_“A weekend in Cumbria, an exquisite bracelet and an early edition of Rupert Brooke’s poems.” I answer._

 Angus looks up and yells to Tom mischievously, _“Uma thinks Rupert Brooke was gorgeous looking, but I hear her taste runs to curly haired blonds these days…”_

 There’s a silence on the phone and Tom asks quietly _“Did you tell him about the kiss?”_

Trying to keep lighthearted I say _“yes, and thanks again for the gifts. Look I have to go... but take care…”_

Tuesday I get a text at 11 am from Angus _“Passed paediatrics… six more months and I’m Dr Watson….”_ I am thrilled and text back _“Let’s celebrate soon…”Another text comes from him “Got six week placement in Thailand; very happy starts next month and no kissing handsome Poms while I’m away…”_

The last comment leaves me feeling a bit off… and guilty as I downplayed the kiss but wanted to do the right thing by telling him. What are you meant to do in those situations?

 I plan to go to Quixote but instead get a call from Russell. _“Finally !”_   I say… _“How are you?” “_


	7. In which our heroine gets unexpected counsel and seeks professional counsel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some well intentioned advice from a mutual friend. Uma begins to feel the pressure re her status quo.

“ _I’m good_ ” comes his familiar drawl. He then starts without preamble “ _But I have to warn you about Tom.”_ I sit down knowing I can’t avoid this any longer.

“ _Ok.”_

“ _Look he’s one of the nicest guys in the business, huge hearted and hard working and caring… but he’s a playboy by any standards and a real womaniser_.” Russell continues.

“ _Aren’t they all in your business? Except you…_ ”I add lightening the tone. I find myself feeing ambivalent about Russell’s advice. Whilst I am touched he has taken the time to call, I am irritated that he feels the need to interfere in my life. I sigh deeply.

“ _I’m serious Uma. In your case he’s bad news and I’ve warned him not to make a play for you… told him to keep away which of course made him more determined to pursue you…”_

 _“I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick… he’s not interested in me and he knows I’m with Angus… and he has a girlfriend.”_ I reply.

Russell starts, _“Wrong on all counts mate. He is interested, I can tell… and he’s not above making a play for someone’s girlfriend and I’m not sure if he’s got a” friends with benefits” thing going with the latest girl or if she’s his girlfriend but I don’t think it would matter.”_

 _“Sorry I don’t really get the “friends with benefits” concept_.” I say confused. In fact I’d never heard of the term.

 _“You wouldn’t. I’m not going to explain it but you only have to google him and see what is written. Look some of it’s lies, some of it’s exaggerated but a lot of it’s true, particularly when he’s been on location and on promotions…”_ says Russell.

 _“I doubt I’m his type although”_ I try to lighten the tone _“I saw a photo of him kissing Miss Piggy on the red carpet recently… from what you’ve said, anything with a pulse is his type…”_

Russell laughs _“Pretty much but I could tell he’s attracted to you and liked your company. He sought you out at Quixote… and that’s his MO. By the way he’s a hit it and quit it guy… likes the thrill of the chase and I think he’d see you as a challenge and with his charm, looks and intelligence he usually gets it…I love the guy to bits but well, I’d keep my sisters and nieces away from him.”_

I feel oddly relieved hearing this. _“You have nothing to worry about Russell, he knows he’s just a friend and I’ve been sure to include Angus in all my interactions with him… And thanks for caring.”_

Russell laughs _“I know you’d want something real and monogamous… and you won’t get it with him. And you already have it.”_

I then feel sad then thinking about Tom and am surprised suddenly to feel a sudden sense of loss.

_“Russell, I doubt I’ll see him again… and thanks. If you’re in London we’re having a farewell party for Angus who’s on his way to Thailand for six weeks…”_

_“Are you going with him? You should you know…”_ Russell says adamantly.

 _“I’ll be safe in this big city alone… and thanks for the birthday wishes…By the way why do you want me to get married? Do you think it would put me off limits to people like Tom?”_ I am intrigued.

He snorts _“Probably not, but it may reinforce your commitment to Angus…”_

I ring off and consider what has been said.

This hardens my resolve not to go to Quixote for a while, and I feel resentful that I have to do this. Tom uses Quixote to escape his fans (or to find me if Russell is to be believed) and I find somewhere else to escape Tom. I’m glad I didn’t tell Russell about the kiss, which I have to admit is the best kiss I’ve ever had.

I tingle thinking about it again but realise that lust is a dangerous place to go or rather lust based on nothing else is. But is it just lust? I think of how well we click and then I think again of Russell telling me how Tom is a skilled seductor. No, he’s best avoided.

I buy some champagne on the way home so that when Angus gets home, we toast him and plan the party. It’s a joint “going away” and “birthday” party for Angus whose birthday is in July. We plan a date and decide Facebook is the best way to invite people most people in our social media age. The invitations are left to Angus as I don’t know that many people- some expats from university days who are now in London and George and Miranda from work.

George and Miranda have been a godsend for me at work. They have gone out of their way to welcome me and lighten my workload in any way they can. In their early fifties, George is divorced and Miranda has never been married.

I can see they are interested in each other through their surreptitious glances towards each other and their body language. Somehow though they are not able to allow it to go any further than that. I often ask them to accompany me to lunch which they do. As I try to include them both in a topic of conversation I find that they don’t respond to each other but just speak with me. My attempts at playing Cupid have failed dismally, thus far. I am hoping that I can prod them closer together at the party.

The next two weeks is a flurry of activity. I don’t have time to surface as Julian is in town and there are several meetings where we decide what strategy to take next. He meets high profile barristers and politicians trying to work out the best possible way to proceed forward. We meet and talk shop in a new café I’ve found down the road.

Julian is in his early 40s and deeply passionate about his work. He tells me how two of the prisoners have found immense therapeutic value in painting and one of Australia’s leading painters, Ben Quilty is mentoring them in Indonesia. One of them, Myran is now an accredited pastor and ministers to prisoners in the same prison. He seems to have undergone a profound spiritual awakening.

We move on to personal talk and it turns out Julian is seeing someone seriously, an aid worker he met in Indonesia. He looks happy and I hope it works out for him. He asks after me and I say _“same old same old”_ telling him about Angus’s near graduation and the Thailand trip.

 _“Plans to settle?”_ asks Julian.

 _“I suspect I’m as settled as I’ll always be.”_ I concede.

_“What about kids? You love kids…”_

_“Yes, but I had a pretty toxic home environment…. And it wasn’t pleasant. I’m scared I’ll repeat the patterns of the past…. So I’m pretty ambivalent to having kids even though I love them. Angus will be a fantastic Dad of course… he’s been superb in providing such stability for me….”_ I think with a sudden sense of gratitude.

Julian says _” As a friend, may I say that when you find someone whom you can get on with that well…and they can live with your shortcomings as you live with theirs, then you have done pretty well. And if you can grow in the same direction… you’re lucky.”_

Amanda calls from Australia and I tell her about the anxiety I am having about marriage and the future with Angus. _“I’ve put it off so long and now it’s crunch time.”_

She adores Angus but is very understanding. _“Why don’t you see a psychologist? I can get a recommendation for you from a friend here in Sydney.”_

I acknowledge that would be wise.

I make an appointment to see Dr Griffiths, a stern looking grey haired woman in her mid 50’s. I have a sense of foreboding as she motions towards a chintz couch and sits opposite me with her notepad. I am impressed that there is no desk between us, just each of us sitting on a chair opposite each other. She wears a thickly knitted red cardigan and a tweed skirt, reminding me of the photos of the Mitford sisters’ garb- aristocratic country.

I am surprised when she smiles finally, it alters her face completely and makes her look very approachable. I start to tell her about my work and the situation with Angus and to my horror find that I am crying. I apologise _“I don’t know where these tears are coming from”_ I say. She looks at me intently and hands me a box of tissues. _“Go on, cry,”_ she adds reassuringly _“This is one of the few places where you can do this safely.”_


End file.
